Rememberance
by Iced Raspberry
Summary: PG cause it might bother someone, it bothered a friend of mine. My take on how the I.Z. characters felt a couple of days after 9/11. I know it's been done a lot, but I felt like I had to express myself somehow, so be nice and give it a chance.


**I am so sure this has been done to death, but it's my take on how the IZ characters (at least some of them) responded to September 11. And me too, at the end. So if that's gonna bug you, don't read it, but I would like you to if you won't be disturbed.   
And let me say something now. The last fic I wrote got flamed. Okay, I don't mind that, but I'd prefer a TASTEFUL flame, not one full of words I'd rather not read and comments I really don't care about. OH, and never flame because you don't like the group that sings the song in a songfic. I find that immature. I don't mind if you don't like them, but you don't have to tell me. **

  
  
  
  
**-Dib-**   
  
I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing my round glasses to clear off the smudges cause by the salt of tears. Frightened tears, though I would never dream of admitting it to anyone. I was frightened, I felt completely lost. I was alone in a chaotic world. But somehow no one seemed to understand when I tried to show how I felt about it, and nobody would listen when I felt like talking.   
  
I wasn't one of the many others who didn't understand what had happened. I knew what was going on, even though most of the other sixth graders didn't. Those that were found after that ill-fated feild trip. I worried for my sister; she was younger, and she never tried to find out anything about the tragedy. To her, the agony of living was a tragedy. But I couldn't help but wonder if she needed an explanation.   
  
I put my glasses back on and listened intently. It was late at night, a fairly warm autumn night in early September. Leaves had begun falling from the trees just as the world began falling apart. I did not hear the sounds of my father, working late in his lab. He was just another heartless adult who didn't even try to comfort his children in such a time. I thought he would at least acknowledge Gaz's innocence in the matter, but he had vanished away to his work the past two days.   
  
THe curtains at my open window blew haphazardly, and the wind was a wrapping of comfort. At least it was comforting until tiny bits of ash began to swirl to the sill. I slammed the window, needing no reminder of just how near we were to the carnage. Our school was even closer.   
  
I turned on my small black radio to try to get my racing mind calmed. The brusque voice of an announcer blared neverending news across the first station I found. The next one played our national anthem on the bagpipes. I switched it again, finding the tribute versions of various songs. I left it there, simply listening for nearly an hour. I knew I had school the next day, but I could not will myself asleep. For two days I had not slept. Two horrific days.   
  
For a moment, I wondered if there might be some way I could explain all this to the kids that didn't understand. Even Zim, though I knew we were mortal enemies and all that. He lived there too. He was a New Yorker. He was an American, too. Miss Bittters got made once when he didn't know the Pledge of Alleigance. I guess even he was confused. If he was even still alive, after that lousy field trip... Him, and Gaz, and my class, and me...! What a mess. What a total mess.   
  
I climbed back into bed and shut my eyes, destined for a restless night. My dreams were fitful, ranging from being trapped, to running from a burning building, finally to end in my being dressed as a fireman...   
  
  
**-Gaz-**   
  
I sat, huddled in the covers, in the center of my bed. I shivered despite the warm night. A recent sticky trail of teardrops still lingered on my pale, scared face. I could only hope no one ever found out about my crying. I'd deny it, and then beat up whoever it was.   
  
After all, weren't we really just beating ourselves up anyway?   
  
I didn't understand. I hated not understanding, because that meant I would have to ask someone if I ever wanted to know. Asking somone would show my concern, and that would be showing an emotion other than hate. But maybe the world had enough hate without me adding to it. People hate me, people hate themselves, people hate those they once loved. THere was no more love. Such a silly emotion.   
  
I had considered asking Dib. He always nodded grimly when the reports came through, so I figured he must know something. Twice I had started to ask, and twice I had again fallen silent. And maybe I had just grown too hard, but I did not even care that some of the students had gone on a field trip to those very buildings that very day. Dib's class had gone...Dib had a stomach virus. His nausea may have saved his life. Only about half of his class was even back at school. He didn't even seem to be happy that Zim's desk remained empty.   
  
I jumped as I heard a window slam. It was from Dib's room. He must still have been awake. Again I thought of going and talking to him, and again I killed that idea. He would just laugh in my face or say that there was nothing to talk about, nothing to explain. But that wasn't true, because I'd always be clueless if no one told me.   
  
Hate is such a powerful emotion in this world.   
  
I lay down, stretching out my small body along the bed. I wondered if Dad was home. I hadn't seen him for days...except just for a moment when he blew in the door, covered in soot. I think he had been at Ground Zero that day, but he didn't tell me. I wanted him to come home. It was a childish thought, but I was scared.   
  
I pulled the covers up around me, desperate to find some comfort somewhere. Having to keep my feelings inside was quickly becoming hard for me. That was usually the way I spent my life, but recently it was terribley difficult.   
  
Everything was difficult.   
  
I told myself to dream of better times. I dreamed that I was bout to laps from a cliff when it collapsed underneath me...   
  
  
**-Zim-**   
  
I stumbled in the door, slamming it behind me and sinking to the floor. I gasped loudly, my mouth full of grime and my eyes sore and puffy. I had gone on that idiotic field trip and payed the price for trusting those humans. They tried to kill me! Luckily I was stronger than the humans that had been there with me. Most of them were dead. I cursed myself for agreeing to going on that trip, then for following the class up ninety-three floors, and even then for trusting the humans that told us we would get out safely! I could have been killed, and ruined the invasion.   
  
As I finally regained my composure, I felt a tiny twinge of guilt that I had not tried to help any others escape. I felt weak for having panicked, weak for worrying.   
  
I walked to the couch and turned the television on. That was all it took for GIR to appear and sit on the couch beside of me. For a moment, I was grateful he was there, no matter how strange he sometimes was.   
  
There was nothing on any channel except for human news broadcasts, so I began to watch them. Every message was the same: we had to show the terrorists how American we were. Wait...we? I should not be a part of htis chaos. I should not care that the humans were doing my job for me; that they were killing themselves off.   
  
But I did care. It felt like a personal insult that they had attacked the human city that I lived in. Perhaps I had been here too long. I was beginning to sound like the humans. I looked over at GIR. He looked confused...moreso than usual. I wondered how many humans did not understand. I did. I knew what it was like for a species to wipe itself out because of war; I had seen it happen all too many times. Why did I have to be a part of this human problem?   
  
I found myself cringing at videos of humans leaping from hundreds of floors in the air, only to smash to their deaths on the streets below. So much blood, so many lost lives. I even had a thought...that maybe the humans didn't deserve this kind of torture. Mass murder of innocent people seemed kind of crule when I was a part of it. I could have kicked myself for such thoughts, but I allowed myself to continue thinking them anyway.   
  
I watched the news late into the night, until finally the events of the past few days and the escape from the rubble took over, and I drifted off into sleep. I was plagued with nightmares of horrible, bloody deaths, all to end in a dream of watching Irk be destroyed. I did not awake for hours, each hour's dreams stranger than before...   
  
  
**-Iced Raspberry-**   
  
I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the screen, tears coursing down my face. It was Friday, the fourteenth of September. Eight-thirty in my time zone. People online were shouting, mad, cursing the television and all it's ways of being connected to Nickelodeon. They acted as though missing a new episode of 'Invader ZIM' was the worst thing in the world.   
  
I know, I was one of them. I shouldn't have been like that, but tensions were high already without having the one thing that held us together taken from us at the last moment. I had a new puppy, I called him Bilbo, that my mother gave away without telling me on the twelfth. I had a favorite television show that had been dubbed "too violent". I didn't know it then, but it would be cancelled completely a few months later.   
  
I had a math teacher with four friends working at the Pentagon that hadn't been found.   
  
I had a friend who lived very near to the Trade Center.   
  
There were so many people who had lost dear friends and relatives and I was sitting at home, crying over a lost episode of a cartoon. How silly.   
  
In the months ahead, I would find myself not even remembering to turn on the television on Fridays, at least for awhile. But I would also find myself with a new puppy, dubbed Day Tripper, that we still have. I would find myself wearing a flag sweatshirt and a "God Bless America" bracelet for my Freshman photo. I would find myself praying more for our President, for our country; singing more patriotic songs; crying a little more often. I would moreso notice the jets and helicopters from the 101st Airborne, which is not far from my school.   
  
Everyone was changed, and no one can deny that. I know these fics are pretty frequent, but I wanted to do my tribute. I appreciate those who read, and all those who have reveiwed nicely in the past and who will review this one. Thanks a bunch, for listening, for letting me get out something that's been building up for a long time.   
  
  
  
**The end**


End file.
